Angel of Music
by Serena-xXx-Moon
Summary: Orphaned Bella has been sent to live at the famous Paris Opera House. Before her mother died, she promised to send a gift from Heaven. 'Sing a song, and I will send you the Angel of Music'. His music touches Bella's heart, his voice bleeds into her soul.
1. Dreary Night

Chapter 1 – Dreary Night

It was a dark and dreary night when they came to take me away. Madam Esme Platt was a kind hearted woman, but with a very hard exterior making her seem quite frightening sometimes. As the carriage moved on, I looked out of the window. The rain was falling heavily and the wind was blowing harshly, like there would be at storm any moment. The weather matched my mood perfectly.

As we rode up to the famous Opera House, I couldn't stop myself from gaping. I had been here twice before but never at night. The lights were glowing brilliantly against the stone and marble structure and the shadows made the figures in the carvings and the statues seem so alive.

When the carriage stopped, Madam Platt stepped out first, offering her hand to me so that I didn't step in the puddle just outside. I hesitantly grasped her hand; a little tighter than I meant to perhaps, but she simply squeezed my hand in a comforting gesture and then let go, leaving me to trail after her up the marble staircase to the Opera House.

The foyer opened up with lights blazing, gold pillars, tiled floors, painted ceilings and expensive furniture. I knew that the ticket booth and the coat house hid just behind the curtains to my left and off course, the large oak double doors all the way across the room led the way to the main Theatre. However this time, she led me up the staircase on the left hand side of the foyer. I knew that there were 7 floors here; however, I had only ever visited the first 3 which hold the dressing rooms, the ballet studio, the dining hall, the offices and the prop rooms.

Madam Platt led me up higher this time.

'Miss Sawn, the little girls dormitory is just here on the fourth floor if you should ever decide to reside here in the future, however, your mother had specifically asked me, that if you wished, you could stay in her old room up on the seventh floor'.

I thought for a moment. Did I want to sleep with 10 to15 other girls my age, or did I wish to have my own luxurious room? I pointed upwards, gesturing that I wished to stay in my mother's room.

As we reached the top floor, I was already out of breath. Climbing these stairs everyday for the next few years was going to be such as hassle, but I'd get used to it eventually. She led me down a dimly lit, narrow hallway and as we approached the door, she pulled out a beautifully decorated key to open the door. When Madam Platt saw me looking at the key, she began to speak, 'Your mother was quite gifted with her creations; there are many more of them here in her room. She didn't want to lose her key, therefore this out of some wood she found in the prop house.'

She laughed lightly at the end of her little tale and I also found myself grinning slightly. My mother, always changing everything for her comfort.

I couldn't help but tear up at the sight of my mother's room. It was decorated almost exactly like her old room at home.

'Why don't you get some sleep? It is already by late and everybody else is sleeping. I shall awake you in the morning and we will talk about how to proceed your education and your arrangement here at the Opera House then.'

She smiled at me softly, and then turned and left the room closing the door behind her. I was already in my nightgown as requested by Madam Platt as she came to pick me up from my home. I dimmed the lit lamp as it seemed to bright, and I left curtains open allowing the moonlight to shine in, but even then, the brightness was dulled by the splattering rain on the large windows.

I climbed into bed, and as soon as my head hit the pillow and the comforter was pulled up to my chin, I began to cry. So much had happened within the last few days and I could feel it taking a toll on me. Let me explain.

My name is Isabella Swan. I am 7 years old and had a wonderful life. It was just me and my mother. I never knew my father, but my mother told me that he was a kind and gentle man, however when he became sick, he had to leave us and go far away so that he wouldn't catch what he had. I never really missed him, as I had never known him; I could only ever dream.

My mother. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever known. She had long dark hair which was wavy like mine, and she had deep blue eyes and pale white skin. She had rosy cheeks and a gentle soul. She used to dance here at the Opera House. I've seen her portrait in the gallery. She was a ballerina and she also had the voice of an angel. She said that she met daddy when he wrote a play and offered it to the Opera House. I never asked what the play was about; I only knew that my mother and father fell in love and got married. And when mother was pregnant with me, she and my father left and bought a little cottage of their own. They had their own real life fairy tale and I had mine too. Up until a couple of days ago I was fine and my mother was fine. But then she fell ill. Her cheeks were no longer rosy and pink, the spark left her eyes, and she lay in bed whispering things to herself that I couldn't even hear.

'Don't leave me mommy. Father is already gone, you can't leave me too.' I cried as I stroked her cheek softly.

'My angel, my sweet, sweet angel. I will always be with you in your heart and in your mind'. She spoke softly.

'But you won't be here with me, and I'll never see you again!'

'Angel when I am in heaven, I will visit you in your dreams. But you know what. You are a strong girl. You are my strong girl. And because you're so good, God and I will send you a gift. We will send you the gift of music. Open your eyes my darling. Open your heart and open your mind. Sing a song and the Angel of Music will find you.' She closed her eyes, and her hand went limp in my hand.

'Mommy, no... Come back to me mommy please. I'll be good mommy; you don't have to send me an angel please!' I begged and I pleaded, but she never opened her eyes again.

Madam Platt was my mother's friend. She was also my mother's guide here at the Opera House. Back in the day, Madam Platt was a ballerina here. She still teaches classes now, but mostly, she takes care of the little girls here and runs the schedules. As far as I know, she's the one in charge around here. She married into the family who own the Opera House. The Cullens. They come from old money, and have a huge family, however, most of them still live in Italy, which is where they originally came from. Only Carlisle Cullen lives here in Paris with his wife and his children. So I guess Madam Platt is really Madam Cullen, but everyone is so used to Platt no one really bothers. Only the rich folk and the visitors at the Opera call her Madam Cullen.

I listen to the rush of the wind outside. The rainfall seems to be getting louder and heavier and my lamp soon burns out as well. I close my eyes and let my surroundings lull me into a deep, dreamless sleep. I need to be well rested for the days that are to come here at the Opera House.


	2. Friendly and Unfriendly Faces

Chapter 2 – Friendly and Unfriendly Faces

A rapid tapping on my door awoke me the next morning. I sat up in bed rubbing the sleep from my eyes as the door opened wide and in walked a tall woman with wavy golden hair and healthy look skin. She had big brown eyes and a huge smile on her face. I pulled my bed covers slightly closer to my body; this woman looked a little aberrant.

'Come Miss Isabella. My name is Renee and I have been ordered by Madam Platt to take you to the washrooms and get you cleaned up. She would like to see you for breakfast in her office at 08:00am sharp. Come on now, no time to waste'. She spoke so fast it seems as if she had said it all in one breath.

I was slightly startled at how forthcoming she was. When she saw my hesitation her eyes grew softer.

'Come Miss, we need to get ready to start the day ahead of us. If you don't rise now, you'll never get back on your feet. You are young, you have a whole life ahead of you, do not waste it grieving.'

Now I was near tears. She seemed very kind; I guess I was wrong about her. Not wanting to waste anymore time, I crawled out of bed and followed her down the narrow hallway which was now lit with candles. Odd, when it is dark, the candles are not lit, and now with the daylight pouring through the windows, the candles are lit. As we turn down another hallway, I see a couple of other girls my age exiting what I am guessing is the washroom.

Miss Renee helps me get ready for the morning. I learned that a couple of other children my age also reside on the 7th floor with me. Madam Platt has 2 children; Emmett and Alice. Emmett is 3 years older than I am, but Alice is only a few months older than me. She has a very petite frame with long and shiny black hair. Emmett, on the other hand, is quite big for his age. He too has shiny black hair and the biggest smile I have ever seen. Their bedrooms are down the hallway on the other side of the staircase. Rosalie Hale and Jasper Hale also have their bedrooms down that hallway. They are Madam Platt's niece and nephew, and interestingly enough, they are twins. They share the same icy blue eyes and the same curly, golden locks. They are also the same age as Emmett.

When I have finished getting ready, Miss Renee leads me to the 3rd floor where Madam Platt's office is. She taps softly on the door and waits for a reply. We hear a soft 'Come in', from the other side of the door and Renee opens it and gently urges me forward.

'Good morning Miss Swan. That'll be all Renee. Please ensure that the other children are up and ready for our day trip.' She requests.

Renee simply nods her head and closes the door behind her. Now I am lost. Madam Platt is sitting on the couch sipping her morning tea and she beckons me to take the seat opposite her. As I sit down, Madam Platt begins to talk while pushing a glass of milk and a plate of bread towards me. I pick up the glass of milk and sip it slowly. I think I am too nervous to stomach any more than just fluids.

'Did you sleep well?' Madam Platt enquires.

I nod silently and take another sip of my milk.

'Good. Well, let's not delay this conversation any further. Your mother was a good friend of mine, and she has requested in her Will that you be left in my care here at the Opera House. '

She waits for me to speak, but I simply nod my head indicating for her to carry on.

'I have heard your voice and know that when you grow up, with a little training, you will have the same beautiful voice that your mother had. You will also join the ballet classes that are taught in the studio. You will also be required to take a literature class. All the girls here are given a minimum education. You will be supervised at all times and I ask you not to go wondering around here alone. It will be easy for you to get lost, which brings me to the set of rules that you will be required to follow while you are here.'

I sit patiently and listen to her as she lists the rules and my schedule.

'On Monday's, you will have a literacy class in the morning from 08:00am until 10:30am. Breakfast is served between 05:00am and 08:00am so make sure you are up and ready. Renee will not be there every morning to assist you.

Lunch is served from 11:30am till 1:30pm. Again, once you know your way to the dining hall, it is your duty to feed yourself. Pushing in the queues is not tolerated and if seen doing so you will be escorted to the back of the line.

Dinner is served from 5:30pm to 8:30pm. However you will need to eat at the appropriate times in time to make it to your ballet classes which is scheduled to start at 7:00pm and end at 9:00pm.

After that you are to go straight to your dorm, or in this case your room and if you are found wondering, there will be serious consequences.'

I look at her, and continue to sip my milk. The girls here actually get an education. It really is fascinating, mother taught me to read and write and we'd stay up late reading most nights. I love to read and I am actually excited to start the literature classes. My attention is drawn back to Madam Platt as she begins to speak once again.

'On Tuesday's, myself and another adult will escort you girls to a different Museum, or a different theatre to broaden your knowledge on the Arts. It is important to know how others interpret the world we live in. We usually leave around 09:00am and either return for lunch, or if it is a day-trip, we will be back in time for dinner, maybe even later than that. Again, you are not to go wondering unless told otherwise. '

'Wednesday's will hold the same schedule as Monday, and the same goes for Friday. Thursday You catch up on whatever it is you need to do. You may use the ballet studio if it is free, or you may read in the library, or finish your homework from Literature classes. You may also spend the day in the girl's dormitory with the children, but no misbehaving.'

'The same goes for the weekends. Unless told otherwise. Is that understood?' She looks at me expectantly.

I simply nod to show that I understand.

'I must tell you that at some point in the future, you will be required to speak. I may tolerate it as I know what you have recently been through. However, your other tutors may not be as understanding or forgiving. When asked a question you will be expected to answer.

I am silent for a while, staring at my lap. Slowly I lift my head and look Madam Platt in the eyes.

'Yes Mam,' I whisper. But I know that she has heard me.

She smiles at me softly.

'Very well. Today is Tuesday and we will be visiting The National Library. I will be escorting you along with Madam Denali. There is a Theatre and Performance gallery with thousands of books and I would like for the girls to browse. It is getting close to 09:00am and we are expected to wait downstairs in the foyer for the carriages to arrive. Fetch your coat, hat and gloves from your room and meet us down there.'

'Yes Mam.' I get up and leave.

-x-X-x-

As I arrive at the foyer, I see a gathering of girls. There must be around 15 of us. They are all standing in their own little groups, chatting away. Some seem excited, some seem bored, others are looking at me, whispering and pointing. A woman blocks my vision. I look up at who I am guessing to be Madam Denali. She is a gorgeous woman with hazel eyes and bright blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. She has a long nose and seems to be studying me. She looks me up and down, and then introduces herself.

'Good morning dear, I am Madam Karoline Denali.' I guess I was right. 'Welcome to our Opera House. I'm sure you will fit in just fine here. We'll have you reading and writing and dancing in no time.'

I already do not like her. She is looking down at me, as if I am a slow minded child. Thankfully, Renee, who is straightening the girls' clothes pipes up.

'Oh, Madam Denali, I hardly think she will find it hard to fit in. She already knows how to read and write and I'm sure she will make a fine dancer, just like her mother. You are speaking to Ms Katherine Swan's little girl.' Renee seems smug for some reason.

Suddenly, the girls are murmuring and Madam Denali is staring at me. She huffs, 'Well, I guess you have something to live up to now. Your mother was always so ... sure of herself as well.'

I hated this woman. How dare she talk about my mother this way?

'How is Katherine anyway? Last time I saw her, she was married to that Song Writer and moved away from the Opera House', Madam Denali asked bitterly.

I was quiet for a moment, glancing at Renee. She seemed quite shocked at Madam Denali's forwardness and her brows were furrowed with worry. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but she never said a word.

'My mother is dead.' The girls around me gasped, and Madam Denali was also left speechless. Finally finding her words, Miss Renee made her way over to me and bent down to fasten my already fastened cloak. She pulled the hat tighter around me head and was unnecessarily fussing over me.

'That is enough. Madam Platt will be here any moment now. Why don't you check that all of the girls are here Madam Denali?'

'Renee, I do not think it is your place to be ordering anyone around. I will do as I please. _You_ may go back to whatever ... chores you were doing.'

At this moment, Madam Platt came down the staircase.

'All right, the carriages are here. Let us be off. Remember, 5 girls to a carriage, and no more.' She ordered, and there was a bustle of movement as the girls stepped out in the light drizzle and into the awaiting carriages.

'Do not let them dishearten you little Miss. Hold your head high. Your mother would be so proud of you.' Renee whispered to me. I was really beginning to like her.

-x-X-x-

Since I didn't really know any of the girls, I ended up in the last carriage with Madam Platt and Madam Denali.

'I will introduce you to the girls when we get to the library. I'm sure you will get along with them just fine. They are a friendly bunch after all; are they not Madam Denali?'

'Oh yes. Little Alice and Miss Rosalie and very well mannered. And off course, let us not forget about my girls. You will love them. My oldest Irina, the middle one Kate, and the youngest Tanya. You should also ask them to give you dancing lessons. They are fine ballerina's for their age. Tanya is your age, Kate is 9, and Irina is 11. Yes, fine young woman they are.' If they are anything like their mother, I doubt we will get along and so I role my eyes. My suspicions are confirmed when I see Madam Platt grinning at me slightly; a look of amusement in her eyes. I duck my head and blush slightly at being caught.

Other than that, the ride is pretty much silent apart from Madam Denali's enquiries about dinner tonight.


	3. The Evil Sisters Three

Chapter 3 – The Evil Sisters Three

Once again, Madam Platt helps me off the carriage and I follow her to the library. I look at the tall building, amazed once again by the structure and off course, the height of it. We gather around in the outside parlour where, as promised, Madam Platt introduces me to the others. I'm rather nervous seeing as many of them still seem to be looking at me and whispering to each other. It is quite unnerving.

'Silence please. There is something that I wish to say to you all.' She waits calmly as the girls quieten down instantly. 'We have a new member joining us at the Opera House. This is Isabella Swan. I know you have all heard of our very own Katherine Swan; this is her daughter, Isabella.' I can feel myself blushing hard. I'm not used to all this attention let alone being dumped in the spotlight.

'I know you will all make her feel welcome as she will be joining Literature classes with you as well as joining our Ballet sessions.' Some of the girls smile at me, but some are staring, and even glaring. I think I can tell who Madam Denali's daughters are just by looking at them. They all seem to have the same cold hazel eyes, platinum blonde hair and long noses.

Madam Platt leads us inside and reminds us that we need to be quiet even though she has booked the Theatre and Performance Gallery specifically for us for the afternoon. I wonder along behind the stacks and rows of books, simply in awe of all the material present. Mother had a large shelf at home which she crammed her books on claiming it to be her own little library. But never in my life had I seen anything this big. I continue down aisle after aisle, running my fingers along the spines of the books. Just as I am about to take one out, I hear snickering behind me. I turn around to see the three blonde's standing there with mischievous grins on their faces.

'So you are Ms Swan's daughter. Can you sing and dance like her?' Said the tallest, and I'm guessing the eldest.

'I bet she'd fall flat on her face. Look at her hair'. Pipes in the youngest girl. I try to flatten the waves framing my face. These days, it is simply 'in fashion' to have silky straight hair. I remember as a child mother used to tell me that I had thick curls, but as I grew up, they settled down slightly, but still, it's close to curly. I hope as I grow up, my hair will be like my mother's; long, wavy and all shiny flowing down my back.

'Does she speak at all? Do you understand English?' the eldest one speaks again.

I nod my head slightly and begin to back away from them. Only to have them step forward, as I go further back. I don't like these girls. They seem just as unkind and judging as their mother. I guess it's true that the apple never falls far from the tree.

'Leave her alone.' I turn around, slightly startled, taking a look at my saviour. It's Alice; Madam Platt's daughter. She walks up to me and stand in front on me, slightly blocking me from view.

'Come on Isabella, you don't need to be interrogated by the three ugly witches.' She snarls at the Denali sisters.

'Oh that's rich, coming from one of the ugly step-sisters herself'. Irina belts back.

At this moment, Rosalie rounds the corner, and for some reason, the Denali sisters take a step back, seemingly frightened by her presence. Should I be scared too?

'Is there a problem here?' she asks expectantly with a raised eye-brow.

Irina huffs and begins to walk away, her sisters trailing, dutifully after her. I let out the breath I wasn't aware I was holding. I turn to Alice and Rosalie to thank them, but as I open my mouth, I found that I am lost for words. Should I speak? If I don't will they be unhappy with me? As is she knows what I am about to say, Alice starts talking.

'It's okay. You don't have to say anything. Those girls are always stirring up trouble. Just stick with us, and you'll be fine Isabella. Come on, let's go see what the other girls have found.' Without letting me even agree, or disagree, she takes my hand and begins in walk through the aisles. I look back at Rosalie, only to see that she is staring back at me. A scrutinizing look on her face. She doesn't seem too fond of me, but then again, she isn't being nasty to me either.

As we reach a set of tables, Alice sits down on the bench with the others girls and signals for me to do the same.

'You won't believe those three witches. They were hassling poor Isabella here', Alice begins, almost dramatically. I don't know how I feel about the whole 'Poor Isabella' statement. I'm not poor anything; I would be quite alright on my own. There are a few groans from the other girls, much to my surprise, they also don't seem to like the Denali sisters very much.

'Hello, I am Jessica', says the petite brunette with hair pulled back in a bun. She points to the girl on her right, 'This is Lauren', then she points to her left, 'And this is Angela'. I nod and smile at the girls tentatively, still wondering if I am in any danger here. Madam Platt doesn't seem to be anywhere in sight; nor does Madam Denali – not that she would be much help I suppose.

'So Isabella, did you have any favourite stories, or plays, or operas? Personally, I just love Madam Butterfly. All the costumes, the songs and the set design. I think they are all amazing.' Alice seems quite passionate. I flip through one of the books lying on the table. I point out Beauty and the Beast. This has always been one of my favourite stories. How a young woman, falls in love with the monster who hates himself. She teaches him how to love, laugh and live. I hate how all stories consist of the handsome man who fell in love with the beautiful woman. Or how the knight in shining armour, saves the girl he loves from the monster. It seems wrong to me.

'I like Beauty and the Beast too. I think it is quite comical the way the Beast learns to be well mannered. There was an Opera last year at the Opera House. I didn't get to see it; actually, I don't think any of us did. It was sold out every night, so we were never given the chance.' Angela seems quite fond of the Beauty and the Beast too. She seems like a nice girl.

So that is how the afternoon is spent. Everybody is talking about their favourite plays, operas, and costumes. I feel slightly more comfortable around them, and the Denali sisters keep their distance. Rosalie however, still seems to be weary of me, just as I am weary of her.

When it is time to leave, Madam Platt gathers us all once more, fastening our cloaks, making sure there is no chance of catching the chill. It is late in the afternoon as we all ride back to the Opera House. I counted myself, and there seem to be around thirteen girls all together, myself included. Apart from the evil Denali sisters, and the ever hostile Rosalie, the others seem kind and friendly. I have met all of them now. Megan, who prefers Meg, Leah, Rebecca and Emily.

-x-X-x-

Once we reach the Opera House, Madam Platt sends us all to put our cloaks and outdoor gear away, and then she tells us to go straight to the Dining Hall. I climb the stairs with Alice and Rosalie, and on our way back downstairs, Alice leads me to the Dining Hall on the first floor. It is a long room with windows surrounding it. As we queue up, I find that I am not very hungry, so as I am served, I refuse all the meat and the poultry, simply allowing the ladies to put an assortment of vegetable on my dish, and at the table, I fill up my glass with some water.

I finish before everyone else and decide to just head to bed. I realise it is only 7:00pm, but this first day here at the Opera House has been long, and although I know I won't fall asleep instantly, there is still so much of my mother's things in the bedroom that I have not yet looked at. I wonder what else she could have crafted.

As I head for the staircase, I find my path blocked by none other, that the sisters three. What do they want from me?

'Where do you think you are going? The girl's dormitory is only on the fourth floor, but you seem to be going further up. Maybe we should inform Madam Platt. Wouldn't that be a site to see? The new girl, kicked out of the Opera House before her first Ballet lesson'. Irina laughs and her sisters snicker as well. How do I explain that my bedroom is on the seventh floor? I take a look around me, I can see people walking around on the ground floor, seemingly busy, but nobody has seemed to notice what is going on here.

'No one is here to save you now. You were extremely lucky that Alice and Rosalie came to your rescue earlier today. But who will save you now?'

She's right, they are blocking my way up, and the only other way I can go is down.

'My mother says that your mother used to strut around this Opera House like she owned it.' Sneers Kate. 'I believe you think you can do the same since you are her one and only daughter.' I feel the tears springing to my eyes. My mother was a good woman.

'You will never make it here like she did. I bet you will not even last a week here.' Says the youngest Tanya.

'I bet you can't sing or dance.'

'Is your hair always so bushy?'

'Your skin is so pale you look like a ghost.'

I begin to panic as the girls seem to be attacking me. Not knowing what to do, I turn around and run down the stairs. I'm not sure when to stop, but once I reach the ground floor, I find the foyer packed with men, surrounding the ticket booth and the cloak room. I hear voices coming through the entrance and I don't know where to run. The only place I can go is down again. So when I see the dark staircase leading down once more, I don't hesitate before hastily making my way down it.

Once I reach the bottom, I slow down. Taking in my surroundings, I see that I am now in a dark hallway. There are no windows down here, only a few dimly lit torches. There are no doors here, but there is another hallway leading off to the left. I contemplate for a moment. This place is so dark, I don't think I should be down here. Madam Platt specifically asked me not to go wondering. And I don't see anybody else down here. Do I go back upstairs and face the sisters? Or should I just hide out here until everything quietens down?

Opting for the latter, I figure it would be safer if I just stayed down here, so I follow the hallway on the left, using what little light there is from the torches behind to navigate down the path. It's getting colder, as I go further. I can see the clouds of air as the hot breath from my body meets the chilly air down here. I must be going deeper into the basement of the Opera House as the ground is definitely sloping downwards. It is quite beautiful down here. The tiles are shining at the art on the walls is magnificent. Why doesn't anybody come down here? What have they to hide?

I see a couple doors, however, there is only one which is slightly ajar. I push it open a little a poke my head in. There doesn't seem to be anybody inside, but I can't be sure; the candle near the front of the room seems to suggest otherwise, but I see no other movement. I realise that I am in a Chapel. There is an Altar up at the front, an organ in the corner, and the nave contains a few benches. I don't understand. I don't think. This all seems odd but as the tears begin to pour down my cheeks, those thoughts are pushed to the back of my mind.

I walk down the aisle and kneel in front of the Altar and let the tears flow. I cry for my mother who I miss terribly. I cry for my ill father that I never got to know. I cry because the Denali sisters won't leave me alone. I am sobbing now and the sound is echoing off the walls. I know no one will hear me down here; I am too far down below. Nobody will even notice that I am gone.

Was I a bad girl? Is God punishing me? I close my eyes tight and the retching sobs tear through my body. I am all alone in this world now. The girls were right. I've barely had any training to sing, I only ever sang along with my mother. I've never tried to dance. What if I am not good enough? Would Madam Platt kick me out? Where would I go? How would I survive? I find myself panicking so badly, my hands are shaking, and if I was feeling cold before, it is nothing compared to how cold I am feeling now. Is it just in my head? Is it also getting darker? I open my eyes, only to find that I cannot see a thing. The candle at the Altar seems to have burned out. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

'What are you doing down here?' a cold, sharp voice echo's through the room.

* * *

_Ohhhhhhh! Who's that? I think I'll have one more chapter with a young Bella before I move onto the rest of the story._


	4. The Voice in The Darkness

Chapter 4 – The Voice in the Darkness

I grew still, breathing slowly and deeply, too afraid to make any noise. Where did that voice come from? It sounded like a boy speaking. I waited to see if I would hear it again. I jumped up when the door I entered through slammed shut. I ran and tried to pull it open but it seemed to be locked. Who was doing this? How were they doing this?

'I will ask you once more, what are you doing here?' There is was again. The voice was deep, and dangerous. He didn't sound as if he was much older than I was. Twelve, or thirteen years old perhaps? But the age of this voice in the darkness seemed to be the least of my worries.

I sunk down in the pew at the back on the left hand side. I was still too shocked and too frightened to speak.

Suddenly, there was a cold gust of air rushing past my ear, and I screamed. I was trembling and the tears were flowing down my face again.

'Please! Don't hurt me! I didn't mean to. I was just running and... The girls were so mean and...' I was finding it hard to finish my sentence through all the sobbing.

'Stop crying! My ears are bleeding with that horrid sound!' he yelled. Frightened by the sheer volume of his outcry, I yelped and then sat still. I was still crying, but only silently, my body jerking with the sobs I couldn't hold back.

'You have come down here, seeking shelter, seeking refuge, and unknowingly you have walked straight into the lion's den. You must either be suicidal, or just completely and utterly dim-witted.' I stayed silent, my body breaking out in cold sweat. I was shivering violently now. This is what Madam Platt must have meant when she said not to go wondering around. This is why the basement is deserted. Why couldn't I see the signs of danger? Dark hallways, abandoned Chapel; what was I thinking?

'ARE YOU GOING TO ANSWER ME?' I flinched violently again.

'I was hiding. I didn't know that I shouldn't be down here.' My voice was shaking. He laughed, a humourless laugh

'You must be the new girl; a brand new asset to this Opera House. The whole House has been awaiting you arrival. Katherine Swan's daughter.' He let out a low, menacing chuckle. Again, I sat there silently, not knowing what to say.

'What is your name girl?' He demanded.

'Isabella Swan,' I whispered.

He was silent for a moment. What was going to happen now?

'Esme preaches that your voice is as great as your mothers. Is that true?' he enquires. I sit silently. Esme told me this as well, but I don't really know. Only my mother ever told me that I had an amazing voice.

'WELL?' I flinched again.

'I don't know?' It came out as a question.

There was a crash, and a series of notes rang from the organ. I screamed again, my body still shaking. He played a few notes. They were haunting and unfamiliar. The frightening part of it all was that I couldn't see him. Not even a silhouette. Was he a ghost?

'Sing for me.' My eyes grew wide. Aside from his request, his voice was suddenly softer; still quite deep, but soft and it was surprising. Why the sudden shift in demeanour The organ playing had stopped and once again I was frozen. I had only ever sung in front of my mother. I didn't want to sing. What was the point? She was no longer here and she would never hear me again. Tears fill my eyes again, and suddenly, I was beside her again. Holding her hand and stroking her cheek, begging her not to leave me. Her last words float through my mind again. 'Sing a song, and the Angel of Music will find you.' Is that what this was? If I sing, will my Angel come and save me from this ghost? Will mother keep her promise?

'Aren't you going to sing?' his soft voice floats over to me, effectively bringing me back to the present again, and away from the lingering memories. I guess the only way I am getting out of here, is if I sing for him.

I take a deep breath and begin to sing the first few lines of my mother's favourite song.

It starts out as more of a murmur though.

_Take the wave now and know that you're free  
Turn your back the land, face the sea  
Face the wind now, so wild and so strong  
When you think of me, wave to me and send me song.  
_

'Louder! I can't hear you!' His voice is demanding again, but remains soft. I seem to be irritating him.

_Don't look back when you reach the new shore__  
__Don't forget what you're leaving me for__  
__Don't forget when you're missing me so__  
__Love__must never hold, never hold tight, but let go._

_Oh, the nights will be long when I'm not in your arms__  
__But I'll be in this song that you sing to me__  
__Across the sea, somehow, someday__  
__You will be far away, so far from me__  
__And maybe one day, I will follow you, in all you do__  
__'Til then, send me a song._

To my surprise, the voice in the darkness begins to sing along. His voice, it's wonderful.

_When the sun sets the water on fire __When the wind swells the sails of your hire __Let the call of the __bird __on the wind __Calm your sadness and __loneliness __And then __start __to sing to me __I will sing to you __If you promise to send me a song._

_I walk by the shore and I hear __Hear your song come so faint and so clear __And I catch it, a breath on the wind __And I smile and I sing you a song __I will send you a song __I will sing you a song __I will sing to you __If you promise to send me a song._

There is no way I could have stopped myself from crying as the final note drifted to a close. Mother; it was as if she knew she wouldn't be with me much longer. This song, it's as if it was meant for me. I'm so far away from my mother, and this song is one of the only connections I have left to her. I know that as I grow up, my memories of her will fade, but this song will always remain with me. It frightens me, to think that I won't remember what she looked like, her unique scent, they way she dressed.

I almost forget where I am and who I'm with, until his voice drifts through the darkness once more.

'The voice of an Angel, as I predicted'. He sounds as though he is smiling. What is wrong with him? Before he could not stop yelling, and now, he calls me an Angel?

He is silent for a long while, as am I. The sound of his voice is still drifting through my mind. He too has a beautiful voice, but I don't dare tell him that. Should I? It couldn't possibly do any more harm than good. Could it?

'I like your voice too,' I whispered. I can feel myself blushing again, and I suddenly feel the atmosphere changing. It has become tense. I feel another rush of air, and this time, I can feel him. He is standing right beside me. I close my eyes tight, waiting for him to strike me, while, at the same time, praying that he won't. I should not have said anything. But is he complimented my voice, the least I could do was extend the same courtesy, even though, in this case, it was absolutely true. If I had not been singing along, I am sure I would have been lulled to sleep. My breathing is laboured, and my heart is beating so fast. I can't see what he is doing. All I can feel is his cold breath on my neck. I shudder as goose-bumps cover the surface of my skin. As if I wasn't already cold enough. His breathing seems to be laboured as well. He seems to be extremely angry. I sit very still not wanting to move and provoke him. My body is still shaking, and he's making a strange sound. It's a sorting or rumbling, from deep inside of him. Could it be? Is he actually growling? My instincts are telling me to run, but I can't, I am rooted to the spot.

Then, as soon as it came, it disappears. A rush of wind, the door is thrust open and I know, he is no longer in the room with me.

* * *

_I'm in 2 minds right now. So the next chapter may take a little longer to be published. Any comments?_


	5. Madam Butterfly

Chapter 5 – Madam Butterfly

As the years passed, the memory of that night began to fade from my mind. I never went back down to the basement, too frightened, yet also incredibly curious. I vaguely remember the incident in my head, however, the one thing that I remember, and will never forget, was his voice. He had the voice of an Angel. I can still hear him, singing with me, singing to me in my dreams.

So much had changed since that day. I grew more comfortable with the other girls, and now, the Opera House is my home. I attended my English Literature classes and am top of my class. Reading and writing was like breathing to me and I had created many stories and composed a lot of music. I would never share it with the world; I do not think I am ready for that yet.

Ballet lessons were hard for me when I first started dancing. Madam Platt and Madam Vienna said that I was too stiff. I was not flexible and it took a lot of work, time, tears, bruises, and torture from the Three Witches to get it right, and by the time I was at the tender age of 11, I was moving freely around the studio. I would go and practice late at night in the studio when no one was there. I could not possible take any more teasing from those wretched girls. Over the years, Alice and Rosalie had helped me a lot. Every time I fell, they would help me get back on my feet. Especially the over hostile Rosalie, who warmed up to me soon after I had arrived. Apparently she was inspectinh whether I was going to be a diva since I was the star of the Opera's daughter.

She had no worries; as talented as I was, I refused to sing. I did not wish to be the star of the Opera House. Lie. I did; I wanted to be the star, but I was afraid. Singing was like breathing to me, but every time I open my mouth, only air comes out. Something is holding me back, but I'm not sure what it is. Madam Platt seems slightly disappointed in me as she had high hopes, but she never pushes me and for that I respect her.

I had also made another friend here at the Opera House. Master Carlisle Cullen. I had never known my father, but Carlisle was the closest thing I had. When I was 9 years old, Madam Platt introduced me to Madam Victoria who was to be my vocals tutor. Things did not go so well. When I wouldn't sing, Madam Victoria would strike me with her cane leaving me bruised and scarred. One day, Master Carlisle was passing by, and when he heard my screams he came in to see what was happening. He effectively stopped Madam Victoria from using her cane on the children and immediately told his wife to put an end to my vocal lessons. It was the first time I had ever met him, and I was slightly scared and intimidated by him.

He took me to his office, where he sat me down and talked to me. He did not treat me as a child, but asked me why I would not sing. Madam Platt had told him I had a wonderful voice. I could not explain it to him in an appropriate manner.

'My child do you not wish to sing? Or is it that you do not wish to be here, to perform here?' he asked slowly, his gaze soft and encouraging.

'I wish to be here and to perform here; but I do not wish to sing. I cannot.' I didn't expand any further, and I knew he understood that there was no dilemma with my ability to sing, just an internal struggle.

He took pity on me. I could see it in his gaze. He never said a word, and he never forced me. I didn't attend vocal classes anymore. I was thriving to be a ballerina like my mother.

-x-X-x-

'Isabella! Isabella wake up. The morning has arrived. We must get to rehearsals, the performance is tonight.' Alice yelled very unladylike from the other side of my bedroom door.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I was slightly confused. I never used to oversleep, but lately, I woke up so tired. It must be all the late night rehearsals. As I washed, I found myself smiling. I could hear his voice in my head. I hear him at night, in my dreams, singing to me, serenading me. We'd sing together in perfect harmony, and then I would wake up. That was the only time I sang. At night, when I was dreaming. I was mesmerized; I was intoxicated. My mother had fulfilled her promise. My Angel of Music was with me in my dreams.

As I hurried to the theatre, I stopped just at the entrance, looking at the stage, the way the audience see it every night. It truly was magical. The red velvet seats, surrounded by gold frames, the red velvet curtains which were tied to the sides of the stage at the moment. The high balcony seats where the rich folk sit every night with their binoculars. The ceiling was the most magnificent site of all. The angels painted on the ceiling with their fluttering wings and the chubby cheeks, it was a beautiful sight to behold. But the most captivating part of the theatre was the glorious chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Dozens of candles adorn it with millions of crystals hanging from it. It is the biggest chandelier in the world which is one of the reasons why our Opera House is so famous.

I walk up to the stage and climb on. Our superstar, the one we call 'La Diva' is exercising her vocal chords for tonight's performance. We are performing Madam Butterfly, much to Alice's delight. La Diva notices me and she scoffs. I seem to attract the attention of all the Diva's around here. First the Denali sisters, then Madam Victoria, and now Miss Jane Volturi. When my training with Madam Victoria ended, Miss Jane was introduced to the Opera House. She truly had a great voice for such a young woman. I think she was around 21 years of age, I never asked, it is impolite.

Alice walks over and grabs my arm pulling me into position where Madam Platt is waiting for us.

'You are late Isabella.' She states.

'I apologise Madam Platt. Sorry Madam Vienna.'

'Ensure that it does not happen again.'

With that we began practice and carried on for the rest of the morning. We were spinning, twirling and fluttering just as butterflies would. At noon, we were told to get a quick bite of lunch, and then we were to be back on stage in our costumes ready for the dress rehearsal.

In the Dining Hall, I picked up a bowl of fruit from the end table. Everybody knew by now that I was not much of an eater. This worried Master Carlisle and Madam Platt when I first arrived, but when they saw that even with just a few fruit and vegetables, I was healthy, they left it alone. My stomach could not seem to process anything with spices and flavourings. I tend to stick to raw fruit, boiled vegetable, and fluids.

'Bella?' I was brought out of my musings by Meg who had grabbed my arm.

'Yes?' I ask her.

'We are all leaving for the dressing room now, are you coming?'

'Off course'.

With that I get up and walk to the dressing rooms with the rest of the girls. As we enter, we find that the Denali sisters are already there along with their mother, applying their stage make-up and pulling their hair into tight buns.

'Girls! You are all late. You should have been here over 10 minutes ago! Where have you been?' Madam Denali bellowed.

It was Rosalie who dared to speak up.

'We all went to fill our stomachs with some food because we were hungry. We are not on extensive diets like your daughters. We actually want to live long enough to have grand-children.' She answered.

The girls giggled while Madam Denali huffed and began tugging at Tanya's hair once more.

I helped Jessica and Angela tie their corsets, and they returned the favour. Just as we had strapped our gauzy, jewelled wings to our backs, we heard a scream which startled us all. It was La Diva, Jane. We all stopped to stare at each other before rushing out of the dressing rooms to see what all the commotion was about.

As we reached the stage, we found a sobbing Jane and an exhausted Master Carlisle trying to console her.

'What on earth is going on?' inquired Madam Platt entering from the other side of the stage.

'Those wretched boys of your! They have ruined my hair!' she complained.

'Your hair looks fine to me. A slightly askew bun, but nothing we cannot remedy.' Madam Platt said exasperatedly.

'NOT THIS HAIR!' she yelled pointing to her head. 'They have ruined my wig!' at this Rosalie barked out a laugh.

Emmett and Jasper were known to be the pranksters of out Opera House. Always plotting mischievous schemes and getting into trouble.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see them hiding behind curtain snickering. I nudged Alice and Rosalie and pointed over to them. We hurriedly made out way over.

'What did you two do this time?' Alice asked, still smiling. It was Jasper who answered.

'We untied the ribbons and extracted the moth balls from it, airing it out so the stench would leave. Then we may, or may not have left it in prop room where the moths chewed up most of it'. He smirked indicating that this is exactly what they had done.

'We're gonna run before they catch us. Jane was getting on my last nerves. She deserves to taken down a notch or two.' Emmett complained before he and Jasper flitted from the scene.

'Those boys are going to get in serious trouble one of these days.' Rosalie claimed.

'But boys will be boys!' I replied.

As we reached the stage again, we over-heard Alec, Jane's brother and manager, reassuring her that he would order a new one from our designer, Miss Maria, immediately in time for the show tonight, and he took her back-stage claiming that she needed to rest.

After all that commotion, we began practice one again.

The Orchestra got their sheets ready, and began to play. As soon as they played the first few notes, Madam Platt called for them to stop.

'What is this?' she called.

'Madam, we were playing what is on the sheets!' the director called back.

'What on earth are you talking about? Where is the music for Madam Butterfly?' she inquired.

But I was no longer listening. They had only played the first few chords of the song, but I had recognised it immediately. I had heard it, in my dreams, the past few nights. Could it be? Was the Angel real? Was he here?

I had no time to dwell on that thought as the correct music began to flow from the Orchestras instruments. We continued to dance, Madam Vienna correcting out posture every now and again.

As the afternoon dragged on, it was clear that this evening's performance was going to fully booked once more. It was only 5.00pm and we could already hear the audience arriving, indulging themselves at the bar and the high-class, extravagant restaurant just off the right side of the foyer. They would all sit and chat and laugh and drink, before arriving to the theatre at 7.30pm in time for the performance.

We were soon dismissed to dinner and then to fix our costumes, hair and make-up. Alice always did my make-up, and Rosalie always styled my hair. I was right. My hair was just like my mother's now. Long, dark and flowing down my back. Rosalie loved to play with my hair.

As the curtains of the stage lifted, La Diva began singing mournfully as we butterflies performed out part. Everything seemed to be going extremely well and I could see the smile on Master Carlisle's face as he watched us from the Balcony in box 3. When the first song came to an end, the butterflies all stood still as our male star, Sir Demetri began his part.

We all stood perfectly still just as we were supposed to. However, I could suddenly feel a chill running down my spine. I glanced up at the Balconies. All of them were occupied, except for box 7. Box 7 was always empty, but I'm not sure why. Why did I feel like someone was there?

As the second song came to an end, the curtains dropped, signalling the interval. I rushed back to the dressing room with the rest of the girls to fix our hair, and retighten our corsets. I was slightly distracted thought, still thinking about the box, and also thinking about the melody the Orchestra had accidentally played this morning.

All in all, we had an outstanding performance, with standing ovation and flowers flying towards the stage. I could see all the women gripping their hankies as they applauded Jane and Demetri on their performance.

After changing into our regular clothes, the performers headed towards the main Lounge where drinks were being passed around, celebrating the success of tonight's performance.

'Can we all raise our glasses, to congratulate, Ms Jane, and Sir Demetri, on their wonderful performance. And off course, our ballerina's made majestic butterflies, kudos to you all.' Master Carlisle took a sip of his drink, and everybody followed suit.

When everyone's attention was drawn elsewhere, I slipped out and went back to my room. I was exhausted after our long day today. I wanted nothing more than to snuggle up in my bed, and let the Angel of Music whisk me away into a dream full or beautiful melodies, and hear his Angelic voice serenading me, coaxing me to sing along in perfect harmony.


	6. Come To Me

Chapter 6 – Come To Me

'_I am your Angel of Music'._

'_Come to me Angel of Music'._

I awoke with a start. It had all felt so real. His voice, so close, next to my bed. The warmth of his breath on my neck and the sparking sensation within my body. My own breathing, heavy as if I had just run a mile

He was real. But how could I be sure? I looked outside the window and it was still dark out. Everybody was sure to be asleep at this late hour. I slowly peeled the covers off my body and got out of bed, opening my bedroom door and stepping out into the hallway. The candles on the walls were not lit and I could not see a thing so I grabbed the dimly lit candle from me bedside table.

I had been warned by Madam Platt. I had heeded her warning and stayed clear of the basement over since the one and only time I had wondered down there. But I could not stay away any longer. A voice as beautiful as his, how could he be of any harm? Why was he hidden? Why did he never show himself? Did he really change the music today? Was it really him in box 7, watching, and observing the Opera?

I found I could not rest without knowing the answer to these questions. So I walked down the seven flights of stairs. I passed the theatre; nobody was around. I looked around the foyer; the main doors were shut, the cloakroom cloaked behind the curtain. The only movement coming from the flickering candles that remained burning.

I slowly made my way down the stairs towards the basement. There were no candles lit in the dark hallway this time, my only source of light being the candle I held. My breath was shallow; it seemed a lot colder down here. My steps slowed and I walked as slightly as I could. I could not hear my own footsteps, but I could hear the swish of my nightgown as it slid across the floor.

I turned down the left hallway. I hadn't been down here in ten years, yet I remembered the way as clearly as the blue sky. I would never in a dozen lifetimes forget that night.

As I approached the Chapel, I hesitated. What did I hope to achieve? Would he be down here? My hand closed around the door handle, as cold as ice, and slowly swung it open. It was silent inside. I could not see down to the altar as there was no candle this time. My candle, the only glow of light. I walked further down the aisle, but I could feel it, the emptiness. He was not here.

I tried not to be too disappointed. After all, I'm sure he did not spend all of his time here. Especially at this time in the very early hours of the morning. How foolish of me. He was probably resting, somewhere in the Opera House. Unless ... did he still live at the Opera House?

My mind took me back a few years ago. I was 13 years old, sitting in Alice's bedroom along with Rosalie. We were having tea that Renee had so kindly brought up to us, and as usual, Alice had the latest gossip on everyone.

'_Did you girls hear, about Jessica. I heard her bragging to Lauren and Angela that she and Demetri were seeing each other. She said he was the most romantic boy and that he brought her pink roses every day.' _

'_I heard the same thing from Emily, except she told me that Jane was furious about this.' Rosalie replied._

_I always tended to stay out of the whole, who is seeing who, and who is jealous or spiteful. _

'_OH! I expect that she would be. After all, we all know what a Diva Jane can be. I cannot believe she is going to be the lead in the next performance.' Alice continued._

_We heard some commotion outside the Alice's bedroom door. Emmett and Jasper burst in and slammed the door shut, huffing and laughing at the same time._

'_What on earth are you to doing?' inquired Rosalie_

'_We ... just ... came... from the basement' Emmett managed while huffing._

'_WHAT?' Alice and I screamed._

'_What were you thinking?' cried Alice. _

'_Oh, come now, tell me you do not believe all these myths about the Opera Ghost?' Jasper asked exasperatedly._

'_Mother has warned us time and time again, as has out father. We must not go down there, it is dangerous.' Alice said._

'_I do not understand. Why is it dangerous? And what is this about an Opera Ghost?' I asked, wanting to know more about what had happened that night all those years ago._

They told me that the Opera Ghost had never been seen by anyone. He lurked in the basement, and anyone who went down there, never came back up once they'd ventured too far. Off course, I did not believe them. I had been down there. Yes this 'Ghost' had been frightening and slightly tempered, but not once did he lay a hand on me. Not once did he try to harm me in any way. His voice was that of an Angel, how could he be dangerous?

It seemed that they only knew what others had spread around. I felt that knew more than they did, however, I never dared share any information.

Over the years, whenever I was in the Foyer, whether getting ready for a trip, or going to the theatre, I always found myself gazing at the staircase that led to the basement, the memories of our voices, singing together in perfect harmony. There was a time, not too long after my conversation with my piers about the 'Opera Ghost' that I was caught out.

_I had once again, been gazing at the staircase, this time, wondering if my Angel was down there, and what he might be doing, only to find, that someone was gazing at me. _

_I glanced around the Foyer, to find Master Carlisle looking straight at me. His face held a frown. He also looked slightly worried. I looked back towards the staircase, and then back at him. He closed his eyes, shook his head a little, and then walked away. I had been worried that he would confront me about it later on. Ask me why I was staring at the staircase; possibly interrogate me, to see if I knew anything. But nothing happened. _

_Carlisle never mentioned it. Ever._

I turned to leave, walking out the door and closing it behind me. As I turned to walk back up the hallway, I heard it. Soft, yet clear. The notes off the piano drifting towards me. The beautiful melody I had heard in my dreams.

He was here! I passed the Chapel and made my way further down into the basement, following the mesmerising music. My body seemed to be reacting of its own accord. My mind no longer seeing reason, my heart, and my soul leading me towards my Angel.

When I reached the end of the hallway, I found another flight of stairs, narrow, and spiralling downwards. I descended carefully, my candle burning dimmer by the minute, slowly burning out. I needn't have worried, there large torches upon the walls. Not candles, not lanterns, but bright burning torches.

The floor no longer held tiles, and the walls no longer painted in rich colours. I was walking bare foot across cold stone floor, and the walls were piled with grey brick. I could see the mist of my warm breath as it met the cold air.

Still following the music, the gentle sounds of the piano drawing my body closer, closer. The door at the end of the hallway was slightly ajar, soft light pooling through it. As I approached the door, the music picked up pace, the rhythm matching my erratic heartbeat.

As I walked into the room, I saw a figure. The sudden chill that ran through my body, the heat I felt pooling in my cheeks, the hair standing up on the back of my neck told me, that I had found my Angel at last.


	7. My Angel

Chapter 7 – My Angel

His sweet melody carried on resonating through-out the small room. Stone. Everything was stone; floor, walls, ceiling. The only light coming from the candelabra atop of the grand piano.

And at the piano, sat a man, slight hunched over as his gloved fingers glided across the keys, softly caressing them. His long, and thin black cloak billowed to the ground, pooling by his feet. The back of his head held a mass of dark hair, shimmering copper in the light of the flame.

I held my breath as his sweet lament came to a finish.

'My Angel, you have come to seek me out tonight?' his voice, soft and buttery.

I remain silent, unable to form a coherent reply. Why had I come to seek him out? Today of all days. What had led me to him?

'Rest does not come easy for you does it my dear? Wondering around, so late in the night.' He is stating a fact. I awake many times during the night. I hear his melodic voice, and I am pulled from my dreams; my own voice straining, the itch in my throat always awakening me. And the horror of losing my parents plagues my dreams, time and time again until I am fully awake, yet exhausted in the early hours of the morning.

'How could you know?' My voice is so quiet, a whisper almost.

'My Angel, when you sleep, I sleep, when you awaken, I awake. Although, there are some nights, when you are blissfully unconscious, while I watch your peaceful face.' He does come to me in the night!

'You sing to me.' It's not a question; it sort of makes sense now. His voice in my dreams; so close, yet so far.

'Your voice lulls me back to my slumber after I have had a nightmare.' I carry on.

'Yes my Angel, and you never fail to accompany me.'

'Turn around, please. Let me see you. I want to ... no, I need to put a face to your voice. It was you, all those years ago. In the Chapel of the basement...' I trail off, remembering how cold he was back then.

He voice quivers gloriously as a laugh bubbles up in his throat.

'I amuse you?' I ask, a slight edge to my voice. Why is he laughing at me.

He sighs and stands up. My breath catches in my throat. He's very tall. Slowly, he turns to face me, the glow of the candle casting a daunting shadow on the wall behind him.

Pale, he's so pale. A perfectly chiselled face with a fine jaw-line and the most perfectly straight nose. He seems so young, yet the bruises under his eyes, and the wisdom in his forest green eyes state otherwise.

His lips; the bottom lip slightly more plump than the top, and they are a perfectly tinted pink shade. He is flawless, yet, a mask covers the right side of his face. He is so achingly beautiful.

Before I can stop myself, I take a step towards him, my fingers itch with the need to run then down his face. He too, takes a step closer to me, the ghost of a smile still etched across his handsome face. I stop advancing towards him, my body suddenly trembling. Not out of fear, maybe slightly. My breathing is so harsh, and I can feel my heart pounding against my chest.

Once he is but an inch apart from me, he lifts his gloved hand. One finger, just one, slides down my face, from my temple, down to my chin. His face leans in towards mine slightly, and I can feel his sweet breath on my face. I close my eyes, waiting in anticipation to see what he will do next.

'It amuses me, that over the years, you barely talk to anyone. Not sharing your thoughts with the rest of your peers, only answering when you are spoken to, obedient as ever. Yet here you are, after 10 long years, and you cannot seem to stop talking.' He breaths, his slightly crooked smile growing wider and I open my eyes.

'I am a curious being. My curiosity always causes slightly erratic behaviour on my part'. I manage to mumble out, still quite distracted by his close proximity.

'Hmmm... and it seems that your curiosity have once again got the better of you as you have found your way down here.'

'I followed the music. Your music.' I lift my hand slightly. I want to touch him. I repeat his earlier actions as I use the tip of my finger and ghost it down the list hand side of his face where the mask is absent.

So soft, yet there is a certain hardness, a toughness of skin that is unlike any other humans skin.

My fingers wonder to the edge of his mask, but he pulls away abruptly.

'Wait...' my voice trails off. I don't know what to say next.

'Come sit with me. I want you to sing with me again. Please...' His gestures for me to take a seat on the stool next to him. I do as I am told, and sit close to him, yet not close enough to touch him completely.

He begins to play the familiar chords to a song I know very well. Yet I have only ever heard it in my dreams. It's so magical, all the music I was never aware of.

I open my mouth to sing, but I freeze. Ten years. It has been ten years since I last sang – in consciousness that is.

His fingers come to a halt on the keys. I turn to face him and he is staring directly at me, his eyes roaming over my face, searchingly. As his green eyes lock with mine, I see that he is pleading, yet at the same time, demanding that I sing for him.

For him, and him only.

As he begins to play, I begin to sing.

_Think of me, think of me fondly_

_When we've said goodbye._

_Remember me once in a while_

_Please promise me, you'll try._

_Then you'll find that once again you long_

_To take your heart back and be__free__._

_If you'll ever find a moment_

_Spare a thought for me._

_We never said our__love__was evergreen_

_Or as unchanging as the sea._

_But if you can still remember_

_Stop and think of me._

_Think of all the things_

_We've shared and seen._

_Don't think about the way_

_Things might have been.__  
_

_Think of me, think of me waking_

_Silent and resigned._

_Imagine me trying too hard_

_To put you from my mind.__  
_

_Recall those days, look back on all those times_

_Think of those things we'll never do._

_There will never be a day_

_When I won't think of you._

I am not surprised at all as he begins to sign his part. His voice, as beautiful as ever.

_Long ago, it seems so long ago_

_How young and innocent we were._

_She may not remember me_

_But I remember her._

As his voice fades out, mine resonates again, finishing off.

_Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade_

_They have their seasons, so do we._

_But please promise me that sometimes_

_You will think of me._

I am breathing hard again. My voice strained from holding the long notes. I have perfected a song that I have never heard outside of my dreams. He and only he can make me sing like this.

'So beautiful. My Angel, your voice makes me fly. I am heart-broken, yet so glad that you only choose to sing for me. All the people who come to the Opera House every evening to watch the show, and they do not get to hear your sweet voice. Yet I also feel pride and honour that you only sing for me.' His gaze is admiring.

'I cannot do it. Madam Platt tried, and so did Madam Victoria ...' I am startled as he jumps up from the stool.

I turn to face him, only to see that his fists are clenched and his jaw tense. I can see the anger burning within his eyes which have now turned to a shade of dark jade.

'That wretched woman should never have set foot in this Opera House. I know what she did to you.' He is suddenly kneeling by the stool at my feet, his head bowed as if in shame.

I reach a hand, and place in weakly on his shoulder.

'Master Carlisle made sure that I never had to see her again, and that I was never forced to sing again. I respect him greatly for that.' My voice strong for the first time that night.

He laughs again bitterly, 'Yes ... Carlisle has indeed treated you well over the years...' He trails off again. Sighing, he stands up and holds his hand out to me.

'Come, it is late, and you should rest. You are performing again tomorrow night, or rather, later this evening.' He is slightly withdrawn.

I nod obediently and grasp his hand, allowing him to pull me up from the stool and lead me out of the small room. He makes to let go of my hand as we ascend the winding staircase, back up to the basement, however, I grip it tighter. He looks towards me, and feeling bolder than ever, I intertwine our fingers together, my eyes never leaving his.

We stand there together for a long moment. His eyes gazing curiously, while mine are waiting, for confirmation? For acceptance? I'm not sure. But he squeezes my hand and leads me back to the foyer silently and I feel slightly relieved that he did not recoil.

I have just found me Angel, and I do not wish to lose him.

He stops in the foyer, glancing around, I suppose checking to see that the coast is clear. As it is still the very early hours of the morning, nobody is awake yet, not even the maids.

We silently make our way up the many flights of stairs until we reach my bedroom door. He turns to face me.

'Take care my Bella.' He lifts his hands once again and gently strokes down my face with the back of his knuckles. I close my eyes and sigh, voicing the question that has plagued my mind all this time.

'Do I have the pleasure of knowing your name good Sir?' I ask politely, slightly playful, relieving the tension that has seems to build up as we have ventured into the real world once again.

'Edward. I am Edward my Angel.' How fitting for him. I smile widely for some reason. Putting a name to his face makes him seem all the more real to me for some reason.

For a moment, he looks slightly dazed. 'What's wrong?' I ask him.

'Nothing. You have a beautiful smile Angel.'

'I like it when you call me that.' I blush slightly as I hadn't meant to say that out loud.

He leans forward, and gently places a soft, and warm kiss on my forehead. I can feel my face heating up, and he leans his forehead against mine.

I feel as if he is gazing into me soul and lift my hands, gently placing them against his chest. I can feel his heart beating, and once again I smile.

With one last kiss on my forehead, he steps back, and I immediately feel cold.

Sensing my sorrow, he reassures me, 'I will be back Bella.'

I smile.

'Goodnight Edward.' I whisper.

'Goodnight Angel.' And then he is gone.


	8. The Truth

Chapter 8 – The Truth

I awake fully rested the next morning; something I haven't really experienced in a long time. I still have a smile on my face thinking about last night, and the smile spreads even wider when I noticed a single red rose on my dresser. It has a thin, silky ribbon wrapped around it, but no note. I did not need a note; I knew who it was from.

Renee knocked on my door and walked in to wake me up, but she was surprised when she found me already awake.

'A welcome change to find you already up. It usually takes me some time to do it myself,' smiling she walks over to my bed straightening out the covers. However, her gaze quickly falls on the rose and she looks at me questioningly.

'And who might that be from my dear?' I have to think of something to say quickly.

'I guess it is from an admirer. It was outside my bedroom door when I came up last night.' I've never been good at lying, but living in an Opera House for so long teaches you some things. Renee frowned, and for a moment, I was sure that she was going to call me out on my lie, but to my great surprise, this was not the case.

'I should really inform the guards about letting strangers walk up to these floors. It's not safe to have people lurking about the Opera House undetected, especially alone.' She turned to leave.

'Why?' I asked before I could stop myself. I had to know. Everybody here was under the impression that my Angel of Music was some sort of ghost, a monster.

'Excuse me dear?' she looked confused.

'Why do people need to walk around the House cautiously? Why are we forbidden to go into the basement? Is there really an Opera Ghost? Do you believe the rumours?' By the time I finished my voice was but a whisper.

Renee looked at me with sympathy. I did not understand why. She looked back to my door, and for a moment, I thought she was going to leave, but she slowly closed the door and sat down on my bed. Patting the bed beside her, she began to speak, hesitantly, as if she was wondering whether to actually tell me or not.

'Years ago, before Master Carlisle became the owner of the Opera House, there was another owner. An extremely handsome man and his beautiful wife. The Opera House had been passed down through the generations to the next rightful heir in the family. I did not work here at the time but some of the others did. From what I've heard many time, the wealthy man and his wife had two sons, the eldest was ill and so they kept him locked up in his bedroom in the basement where the entire family resided. No one really knew him, or what was wrong with him as they never saw him. Only a handful of servants were allowed in to feed him and wait on him,' she sighed before carrying on, 'however, the Master and his wife were not entirely truthful. Yes the boy was ill, but they failed to tell everyone that in fact, the boy was mentally ill. Nobody knew until one night, he killed his family.'

My mind was reeling with the information I had just acquired. No. It cannot be. Her Angel ... a killer, mentally ill? No, it must have been his elder brother. I had to know?

'He killed his little brother as well? I asked timidly.

'Yes, although the coroners never found his body. The basement is larger than any floor of the Opera House, his body could have been anywhere; it might still be there.' I was suddenly very tired again.

'But ... what happened? To the eldest son. Did he die as well?'

'No. He was taken away to a Mental Home, but apparently, they had to put him down because of his rage.'

'But then, why the stories of the Opera Ghost? How can anyone be sure? The girls said that people who have gone down to the basement never come back up again. Is that true?'

'Heavens, I haven't heard that one before. But I do know, that after the incident, screams sometimes echoed up from the basement. No one ever hears anything anymore. But since I arrived at the Opera House, there have been a few more incidents. There was an unexplainable kitchen fire. Luckily, it was in the middle of the night, so no one was in there at the time. A burning candle somehow fell from the middle of a table onto the floor. During one of the Winter performances, the backdrop fell down on the stage and no one had been at the rope post. They say that the eldest brother's spirit came back to haunt the Opera House.

'Do you believe it? Do you believe that there is a ghost?' my head was spinning.

'I don't know what to believe. Too many unexplainable situations make you question your own sanity from time to time. But yes, I believe that there is something in that basement. Master Carlisle and Madam Platt would not keep it closed off with such demand if there really wasn't anything life threatening down there.' And with that, Miss Renee stood up to leave.

'Do not dwell on this Miss Bella. None of the girls here have ever been harmed, and they never shall be. You're as safe as anyone else.' She gave me a reassuring smile, and then left.

But now the question was ... Was I? Was I really safe? My Angel of Music is not a ghost. I touched him. I felt him. He was real. But why did he wear the mask? What was he hiding?

I could not dwell any longer. I had to get ready for rehearsals again.

-x-X-x-

'Where did you disappear to last night?' Alice asked me while we warmed up.

'I was tired. I guess the performances are taking all of my energy up.'

'Oh. Are you sure you're okay? You still look a little pale.'

'I'm fine Alice. But what about you? Did you enjoy the party last night?' I think I had steered the conversation in the right direction.

'Oh Bella, it was wonderful. Jasper took me out to the terrace last night and he kissed me! I know it's not proper but I cannot bring myself to regret it. It was mind blowing; I can't wait to see him again tonight. He called me his Little Butterfly!' A blush had risen to her cheeks.

'My my Alice, you are positively glowing. It looks good on you. I'm happy for you. Your mother will be thrilled, but I'm not sure what your father will think. Master Carlisle still thinks of you as his little princess.'

'Good Lord, I haven't given much thought as to what to tell my parents,' she exclaimed suddenly, standing upright.

'I guess that's Jasper's job isn't it? Asking for your hand,' at this she began to giggle again.

Madam Platt soon called the class to attention before beginning our rehearsal again for tonight. It was the same performance, but, as they say, one could never practice enough.

-x-X-x-

Later that night, after the performance, I joined the party, and stayed for longer this time. All the handsome bachelors were roaming around speaking to the girls, and especially trying to catch Jane's attention. She however, would not give them the time of day as she was hanging onto Demetri. Instead, the men focused their attention on the Denali sisters.

'Ugh, look at those witches. Tanya has been giggling with Sir Felix all evening, it sickens me. How do gentlemen not see right through her fake exterior?' Rose complained as she finished her second glass of wine.

'He's a wealthy man, and her bodice is just tight enough,' Alice and Rose laughed at my comment, and I blushed. I had not meant for that to come out. Oh well, it was true enough. I just need to ensure that Madam Denali doesn't overhear me.

'Ladies, you were wonderful tonight as always. Alice, Little Butterfly, you soared across that stage as if your wings truly gave you flight.' Goodness. I was blushing just listening to Jasper.

'Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?' And so they took off and danced all the while gazing at each other. I felt as if I was intruding and looked away. I guess Rose was feeling the same way as she too, took off to gossip with Jessica and Angela who had just finished flirting with another handsome gentlemen.

'Do you think she would dance with me if I asked her?' I looked over to Emmett who was now standing beside me. I didn't need to ask who he was talking about. Anyone with eyes could see that he had had them set on Rose ever since they were young.

'She may be cold towards those she does not trust Emmett, but just like her hair, she has a heart of gold, as do you Emmett. Just remember, ask her, do not tell her. You have to make her feel as though she has the power.'

Emmett looked thoughtful for a moment before he took a deep breath and walked past me, touching my shoulder as a silent thank you. Before I knew it, they were all dancing the night away. Alone with me thoughts, my mind wondered back to my Angel, and what Miss Renee had told me this morning.

I remember the ice in his voice when we met when I first came to the Opera House. And then I remember last night, and all those nights I dreamt about his voice, in harmony with mine. Maybe he was better now. There was still the demanding note in his voice, but what man wasn't that way.

Walking slowly out of the lounge, I followed the stairs to the foyer. People were still gathered around enjoying each other's company. Again, my gaze drifted towards the staircase that led to the basement, wondering what he was doing down there. Was he playing the piano? Was he listening to the chatter, laughter and music that drifted down to him? Was he even down there and did he ever leave?

When I turned around to go back upstairs, I found Master Carlisle at the top, looking down at me. He had caught me gazing again and he looked worried. This time, when he turned to go back upstairs, I followed him. We walked up to where his office resided and he led me inside.

There were a few candles burning, but he did not light anymore. Instead, he walked over the balcony and opened the doors, waiting for me to step outside. The sun had long set and I could feel the cold breeze through my dress. Winter was fast approaching. The balcony looked out to the Opera House Gardens which were just as beautiful. Wild flowers, lots of trees, lots of grass. There was a pathway with led to a large gazebo in the back, and off course, there were many fountains and a small stream running across the back with the bridge crossing over leading to the woods behind.

'Jasper and Alice seem to be getting along quite well,' he observed, looking out at the lights displayed all around the garden.

'They make a wonderful couple. Alice is very happy, and Jasper has always treated her well, in fact, he's always treated all the girls with respect.' I was hoping to ease his discomfort.

'I believe you. Still, the hardest moment in a father's life is when his little girl decides that another man is more important, and that another man can provide her with everything that she has ever dreamed off.'

'And here I thought giving away your daughter was the easiest thing in a father's life.' It's true. Most families are happy to be rid of the girls. It takes a financial burden off of them. My eyes welled up slightly. I wonder how my father would have seen it. Would he be happy to be rid of me? Or would tell me that no man would ever me good enough for me?

As is reading my thoughts, Carlisle spoke up again, 'Your father was a wonderful man you know.' At the look of disbelief on my face, Carlisle chuckled slightly. 'Yes Isabella, I knew your father. And your mother. Your father was an amazing musician. He would play the piano, or the violin, even the flute, and your mother would dance to his every song.'

I stood silently for a moment. It had never occurred to me that Master Carlisle would know much about my parents. I knew Madam Platt was my mother's good friend, but that was all.

'Esme and I had just been married. I had heard your father play at the Opera House in London, and then again in Italy. His compositions were so artful for someone so young. Off course, no Opera House is as great as our Paris Opera House, so when I offered him a permanent job here, he didn't hesitate before taking it. It wasn't long before Christian and Katherine met and he began courting her. They were married within months, right here, in the garden, in the gazebo at the back. My dear Esme was with child at the time. Emmett caused her great discomfort. It was rather funny, watching her walk down the aisle in front of your mother as her bridesmaid. There was a grand celebration that evening.'

'What did she wear? My mother. What was her wedding gown like?' I know I was asking the wrong person; how could a man possible describe a woman's wedding gown to me.

He laughed merrily before saying, 'My dear, I think that question should be left for Esme to answer,' his voice softened, 'I also believe that your mother's dress lies in Esme's wardrobe. A lot of your mother's belongings are with Esme. We were just discussing last night that we will present her gowns to you when the Winter Ball is near.' I smiled at the thought.

Carlisle sighed and turned to look at me. There was that look again on his face.

'Child, I think of you as my own. It would hurt me deeply if something were ever to happen to you.' He was speaking in such a soft tone; it brought tears to my eyes.

'I never knew my father. Until a moment ago, I didn't even know his name. But Master, ever since you saved me from Victoria's cane, I have also thought of you as a father figure. This is why I ask you to be careful what you say next, as I only want to hear the truth. You know Sir, I know you do.' By this point, I was begging, pleading for something to appease the doubts in my mind.

'Right now, all I want to tell you is to never look back towards the basement. I want to tell you to use your head. Follow what your conscious tells you.' My heart was breaking slightly; piece by piece.

'I know you have been down there. I know you have seen him.'

'Who is he Carlisle?' I was being rather bold, speaking his name without a title, but I needed him to know that I was dead serious, and that I wasn't just playing some game.

'How much do you know?'

'Only the rumours, and what Miss Renee has told me. She said the eldest son of the previous owner was mentally ill and killed them all. She said he died and now his spirit haunts us. She mentioned fires, and accidents onstage. Tell me it's not true. Edward isn't like that. He would never harm anyone. Would he?' I was almost hysterical.

'Bella, my dear, I can assure you now, that all these tales of the Opera House Ghost, are merely that, tales. And no, Edward would never intentionally harm anyone. His father, Sir Edward Masen Sr, and his mother, Lady Elizabeth raised him right. I can only tell you, that Edward is their youngest son. I can also tell you, that the fire and the stage incidents were merely accidents.'

'But why does he hide in the basement?'

'I'm sorry my dear, but that isn't my story to tell. Edward prefers his solitude. You know what it is like for families with weak, or mentally challenged children; especially when it is the male heir. Sir Edward Masen would never have been able to make it as far as he did if the world had known about his son James. No one would come to the Opera House, no one would pay to see the shows, and Sir Masen would have lost everything.'

'Why does he wear the mask?'

'Isabella, child, only Edward can answer the rest of your questions.'

'Is that your way of giving me your blessings?' I try to lighten the sombre atmosphere. My Angel is innocent, and he is real. I'm not crazy. I could not be happier.

'That is _our _way of giving you our blessings.' I gasp and look over to the balcony door where Madam Platt is standing, smiling. She walks up to me and places both her hands on either side of my face.

'Isabella, I hope you know that you will not be able to parade around with this information. I am happy for both you and dear Edward, but no one can know.' She tells me softly.

'I'm just happy now that I know the truth. My mind is at peace, and no one else needs to know, I prefer it that way.' They both laugh.

'God only knows how many times you'd be blushing while Rose and Alice badger you for information.'

'You know you can come to us any time don't you child? Edward has certainly taken a liking to you. But where will this go in the future? Dear, you cannot possibly isolate yourself from the world by staying down there with him; and I doubt very much that Edward is willing to leave or show himself right now.' Esme is right.

'I don't think you need to worry about that just yet. Follow your heart for now. Just remember to be realistic. Being in love is like a fairytale. I would know,' he gazes softly and lovingly towards Esme. She walks over and grabs hold of his hand. I am surprised, as I have never really seen them show much affection towards each other, but I can see now just how much they love one another.

'I know. I only hope that this lasts. I don't even know if we are headed in that direction yet. But thank you.'

'It is quite late. You should head off to bed.' Carlisle opens the balcony door, leading us back inside. Only when I step into the warmth of his office do I realise just how cold I was outside. A shiver runs through me and Esme removes her shawl to drapes it around my shoulders.

I turn to look towards them one last time before heading out of the office, but Carlisle stops me one last time.

'Be careful Isabella.' I smile softly, and nod once. With that I exit his office and make my way towards my bedroom.

* * *

**Hey Guys. I know Alice and Jasper are supposed to be cousins, but that's just how it was in those days. Plus, just think of them as distant relatives.**


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